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Literary Hatchetman

STATUS: Malfunctioning Space Toilet (favorite death post in RPG) : roleplayerguild.com/posts/4… 8 yrs ago
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8 yrs ago
Current Malfunctioning Space Toilet (favorite death post in RPG) : roleplayerguild.com/posts/4…
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10 yrs ago
Example of a "Character Flaw": roleplayerguild.com/posts/32..
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Bio





"Character Flaw"

Keystone's Daydream

Checking for Mental Intrusion

The Power Of Pain Compels You

The Greater Good

Burial & Origin of James Mandingo Grady



Most Recent Posts

In 🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S. → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Reginald Keystone


Location: Egyptian Museum


A sparkle of recognition could be seen within Reginald's eyes. Not that he actually knew any of these people, but he could recognize when someone was using the King's English in the proper manner of a person of education. The experience of hearing another decorous citizen of the Empire did blunt somewhat the sharp and blatant utterances of their group's first speaker. "Yes, quite. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, of course. But do tell me, is that Lady Kingston, or is your family simply of the respectable, mannered gentry? Not that such statuses are of great importance to me at this moment, I simply should prefer to handle your formal address properly when the situation calls for it."

He tilted a small, polite smile in the direction of the other lady in the room. Manners dictated that he give a showing of presence, and indeed the woman did seem familiar somehow, but he felt no need to press the issue enough to ask, even after she gave her name. The same smile and offer of his hand went out to the gentleman accompanying the two women. "Scandinavian fellow, eh? Well by all means, visiting dignitaries should have the privilege of describing the lay of their dreamscape first. Come along then, sir. Lady Munn has pen and paper at the ready, and I must admit a growing curiosity, myself."

The Lord Major stuck his thumbs into his belt and leaned back a bit. It was like the older man's version of Parade Rest mixed with the military tradition of "voluntelling" someone for a task or activity. Not that he meant it rudely, it was merely a product of his upbringing and experience.
In 🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed) → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Keystone

Location: Woods North of Salarn, Orc Encampment, Evening of Day Three
Interacting With: Sana, vigorously.


Keystone was certain, dead certain that he was going to render the chattering mage unconscious and they could go about their earnest discussion concerning Orcs, Undead, and Supper, not necessarily listed in order of importance. A moment of quiet, gurgling struggle on behalf of the robe wearing loudmouth, and then Keystone had to decide for himself whether he was vindictive enough to keep the hold applied until the younger man involuntarily soiled himself.

And then Sana happened.

Sana "happening" tended to occur in boldly unpredictable ways, he'd found out some time ago. While friendly(ish), she'd always seemed fairly physically standoffish to him, at least in any amorous sense. Sure, he'd witnessed her break the nose of a man who had propositioned her (to be honest, he may have deserved it), and told off others in manners angry and cutting, so he hadn't even put much thought in pursuance of any kind. Yet there she was, pressing her face against his and knocking his target toward the fire.

It was more action than he had gotten in a while, certainly farther than he had gotten with the bar server three days prior. So long as he was in this position, he may as well go with it. Besides, this wasn't some alcohol drenched tart he was trying to temporarily befriend for an hour or so of coital diversion, this was a person he had some genuine respect for.

"In for a penny..." Keystone silently advised himself. He wrapped one arm around the oft brutal Archer, pulling her in closer for more solid contact, going as far as to dip her as he pressed his lips against hers, in front of the firelight and surrounded by Orcs. This was something to write about later for his memoirs.

In said memoirs, the part he likely wouldn't record for posterity was when he extended his other, free hand to Thomas; two fingers raised in an insulting gesture.

He lingered, probably longer than was polite on that kiss, then raised Sana back up. "Completely worth the trip, love." he said in a low, quieter voice. The tone had a hint of joviality in it, but not sarcasm. "Lovely work with the pointy-hat, by the by." he continued, and then winked (Keystone winked!), returning to his seat by the fire. He gave ample room next to himself if Sana wished to return to her earlier spot.

The oddly stricken pugilist fumbled to retrieve his plate from where he had dropped it. With a second or two of thought, he reached over to the plate he had set aside for Thomas, and unceremoniously plopped the contents onto his own. Symbolic, mostly, of his annoyance with the young man, as there was still plenty they needed to go through in the pans about the fire.

"Right, then. We comin' to a decision, or we giving it a wait till morning? Otherwise, we got to talk Dead Folks." His underclass accent, even his demeanor, seemed strangely more relaxed in that moment. He gave a glance up to Sana, opting to hear any input from the woman.
In 🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S. → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Caesar Gonzalez

Location: The Morgue


The inappropriateness of his presence in the Morgue proper, while the bodies of his daughter and a lady who might as well be his daughter lay available for examination, occurred to Caesar. Naturally, he had to bring suds and pizza along for the event. Not to say that all of this wasn't effecting the older man, because it most certainly was, it was just doing so in a manner differing from most men in his position. It was like emotional fuel. In the past, he had gone to great lengths to find and messily expire people who hurt his loved ones. Generally, his role as an investigator never came into play for instances such as this; he was merely pointed in the right direction and let loose. It was easy to follow his tracks in instances like these. They were the ones painted in blood.

Caesar gave a simple nod of greeting to the doctor, following her introduction in Spanish. So she had no idea who he was. Either that, or she was a damned fine actor. It was of little consequence, if she was playacting effectively, if was a short matter of time before she got his identity from Cecily. He may as well be up front about it this time. He raised one finger, casting an expression that seemed to ask for a second of trust as his other hand reached for his wallet. The older man procured one of his credentials and held it up for a quick visual.

"Commandant Caesar Gonzalez, Mexican Federal, Retired. Private Contractor. We were working a related case when..." His voice fell away for a moment, genuine emotion playing in his brain (if not on his face), "...when this happened. We've been open about our findings. Hoping for a return on that."
In 🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1 → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Ash Holloway


Location: Building 2 (Mess Hall) -> Building 1 (Cells)


Ash envied the days from long ago where all he had to worry about in a day was the construction of a temporary bridge or artificial aquifer for surrounding areas, all before a festive afternoon trading fire with hostiles and/or pushing a mechanical offensive into an area rigged with stops and explosives. Envy. The kind of jobs he did, a lifetime ago, generally involved running a team into scouted territory and making it passable by infantry and machines both, and then keeping a forward position defended and habitable for an occupying force. Walls, water, dirt and steel; electronic and mechanical backup, making the uninhabitable habitable, and the impassable passable, brothers and sisters in arms leading the way for everyone else. All of that before receiving the rank of Captain.

There was more than enough room in that kind of a life for trauma-inspiring horror, some for which his training even prepared him. Some it did not. His fellow man had been his primary enemy back then, followed by the environment. The concept really hadn't changed much, but the manner of the challenges were multiplied many times over, and in most unexpected ways.

For instance, it was highly unexpected for him to be sharing a meal with this guy in a courthouse holding area, engaged in a series of verbal feints and parries over instant mashed potatoes, spam, and what he really hoped was cabbage. The entire situation was laughable, he realized. It was a strange sort of contextual feeling; a kind of sudden hyperawareness of what he was doing there, as if looking at it safely through the distance of a television screen. Ash breathed a short but heavy sigh, and chuckled slightly.

"You a drinking man, O'Reily? Don't have any on me right this second, but, it's always good to meet someone that can appreciate decent booze. Myself, I can appreciate decent booze, and I can make more-than-decent. Had my own label, did you know that? Before, anyway... Well, that's a topic for a different time."

"Look, if something bad happens to either of us, I don't expect the other is going to lose much sleep over it. Really don't. We're just not there yet. I don't think you want to spend the rest of your days in that cage. But I also don't want to have a loose cannon running around my town. Get me? So, do you think that we can stop trying to outsmart each other, and have some real talk? If we can do that, I'd love to listen to your input on how to keep these people safe. Hopefully, in a manner that crushes your pals back in Peachtree."

Ash noted the number of communities that Ryan rattled off. It was an interesting note to him that, in all of their time scavenging for supplies and building materials they had never heard of these settlements. Newnan needed people, period. Hands to work the land, eyes to patrol the Wall. Their little town had the capacity to feed and shelter so many more people, so long as they were willing to lend a hand. Or shed some blood, as it looked likely.

The Great Bazhooli


Location: Building 2 (Mess Hall)


"Da, da little Meghna. Please show vhere I make performance. I, ah... I do more then knives, you see. Juggle, tumble, little barking vhen needed, but mostly, The Great Bazhooli is an Impaler. Anything I do vithout stabbys vill not be as good. But yes, I follow."

As The Great Bazhooli stood and began to follow Meg from the Mess Hall, the Security personnel still present to watch the newcomer moved to match him. He still hadn't been formally interviewed yet, and for all anyone knew, The Great Bazhooli was a glue-sniffing maniac out to steal all of their squirrels and rub cold sore pus on the rims of Newnan's drinking glasses, before disappearing wordlessly into the night. And now Meg was propositioning walking off alone with him to a possibly empty building. Luckily, the single rifleman still lugging around Bazhooli's stuff begged to differ with that possibility. Yes, he was playing the role of Professional Third Wheel admirably, mostly because he knew Meg (they all did) and wanted to keep her safe, but partially because he had no desire for Ash to assign him latrine duty, or something far worse.

The Great Bazhooli noticed his tagalong and smiled at him. Even waved him closer. Then he intoned a serious question to Meg: "Place for show, things for show. Show is good, I like. But... Vhere am I to stay here? Vhere to put stuff, rest head, eh?" He continued to follow the young woman, actual curiosity piquing at the location he would perform his first actual show (and to other people, too!) in a very long time.

Black James!


Location: Parking Lot between 10 (Medical Garden) and Gilbert Street - Present location of his Smoker


Still humming a little tune, as he often did while working, Black James reviewed the niftiness of his handiwork. Good, seasoned wood burned slowly with a touch of Ash's booze, moisture level just where it should be. That deer would be a thin slice of luxury when it was done in a couple more hours. Its skin lay outstretched nearby, fur still remarkable intact. If it wasn't for the sudden intrusion and that whole "murder thing", today might have been a great day. Fresh crop of new people came in, too. Point of fact, the deer he was busy smoking came courtesy of these new folk.

It was kind of a reminder - Not all the people outside of these walls was bad.

Caught in his own thoughts of meat ad new folk, James barely caught sight of something in the distance. He couldn't quite make it out, but it seemed to be low to the ground and moving fast, darting from one shadowy point to another, drawing closer, ever closer. James made a slow move to procure his axe from the tool loop on his overalls. By the time it was halfway out, he lost sight of the small, quick form. Maybe it was just his imagination. Yeah. That must be it. He was getting too jumpy, but it was natural considering the scare they all had that morning. He slowly slid his axe back into place.

When he heard the unexpected, inquisitive "Meow?" from just behind him, Black James very nearly leapt.
In 🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S. → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Morose

"Yes yes, quite right. So, Marquess of Queensberry rules, or Emily Post? I shall have you know, my Lady, that I am classically trained in the ways of making others both comfortable and aware of my social upbringing. Have at you!"
In 🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed) → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@Lucius Cypher

Absolutely, you are free to post. @rivaan should have tagged you an hour ago after he made his.

As for the wood, you found a few sticks that were more or less good to burn. You didn't really need a roll for it, but so long as you're asking, there ya go.
In 🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed) → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@rivaan

Absolutely, you are free to post. @The Grey Dust should have tagged you fifteen hours ago after he made his.
In 🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S. → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Reginald Keystone


Location: Egyptian Museum


Dreams, dreams, dreams... Everyone in the room now, having nocturnal visions of that ring, emblazoned with the Bastet Eyeball. This had to mean something far greater than a simple case of alcohol overindulgence (of which he was guilty from time to time) or indigestion (which occurs in a man of his age without warning). But far from being hesitant or concerned with the situation, the Lord Major chose to stride headfirst into this little mystery, regardless of where it may take him. Why, if he was very lucky, he would be shuffled off from this mortal realm in a method most agreeable to his sensibilities. That is to say, in the manner of glorious heroics. Or at least in a period of vigor and action.

"My word, this is intellectually salacious, Lady Munn, if you'll pardon my liberties. It looks to be quite the mystery! Where shall we go from here?"

The conversation was broken short by the sudden appearance of three more non-natives, each strangers to Reginald. He absolutely detested the manner in which the tall, blonde one spoke to Vera - completely without respect to one above her station. He was very much ready to say something scathing on the matter, but Vera had already handled the situation, even so far as to direct the conversation in a different, more interesting discourse before hostilities had good time to develop. He had to give credit, she had a way about her that was partly disarming, partly authoritative. Sometimes, it was enough.

The situation still rankled him. The brazen affrontery of it all, barging in there and making demands. "By Jove, they must be more Colonials." he breathed. In a clearer, more solid voice, he added to the conversation. "My, my. It seems we've all acquired a bit of mayhem thanks to this "Udjat" business. As it seems we're hip-deep in this intrigue, I must confess I haven't the foggiest idea as to how we proceed."

"Oh, but wherever are my manners? One of us should demonstrate those, you know. I am the Lord Major Reginald I. Keystone, Commanding Officer of His Majesty's Royal Air Corps here in Cairo and parts around. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"
In 🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed) → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Foy Coiffeur
Location: Lounge (Sealed Off)


Foy nodded in agreement with Jahosafat's responding monologue as it was going along. The eccentric behavior of the pair of them, particularly when in conjunction with their overly developed vocabulary and propensity toward being overly polite to one another had been thought akin to the antics of a pair of obscure cartoon characters from Earth That Was; similarly behaved talking rodents that went by the vintage monikers of "The Goofy Gophers". Not that more than twelve people in their present solar system had heard of Looney Tunes, let alone viewed the cartoons in question. It could be argued, however, that the antics of said gophers may very well have been a founding influence upon the prescribed behavior or the aristocratic classes of the planet Farraday. That is, if Mr. Coiffeur and Dr. Moreau were any indication.

They were certainly two peas in a frighteningly polite, sociopathic pod. Rather than turn their remarkable skills upon another as opportunities of convenience suggested, they were as brothers, thick and thin. Even for tasks as simultaneously piquing and repugnant as this.

"Indubitably, my good Jahosafat. I should be honored to present myself as the introductory volunteer for your scientific escapades. Tell me good sir, shall you be utilizing a hypodermic for the purposes of collecting my sanguineous humours, or will a workout of light fisticuffs prove sufficient to get the heart moving, prior to the rupture of a smaller vessel? I assure you, I'm still game either route."

Foy checked his very elaborate platinum pocketwatch. It had been a small piece of time since the resident Assassin should have been there. He wondered what the holdup could be. Perhaps she too had found a moderate amount of joy torturing the poor Yeoman, and was reluctant to give up a moment of levity at someone else's expense. Then again, like himself, Carla was every bit the professional. At least that is what he remembered of her, the few times they had worked together.

So, shall we transport our savage and unconscious acquaintance back to the Cargo Bay, or is it direct to Medical for the unfortunate reprobate?"

William Harper


Location: Upper Engineering


Liam tarried in Upper Engineering for a time, enjoying seeing the technical heart of the ship. As the cores rotated, he contented himself to name off the exposed components first as they came into his vision, followed by the internal mechanisms, and finally the basic engine specs. It felt good to be in Engineering again, even if he was just viewing from above.

So long as he was up there, he didn't want to bother the guy actually assigned as the Ship's Engineer, so contented himself to examine the readouts and displays located around him. Upper Engineering was good for tourists who knew to keep their hands to themselves. Most of what could be learned, apart from cracking open the engines and looking firsthand, could be gleaned from careful observation and interpretation of the information provided up here.

William was at home in this room as he was the Pilot's chair. If they could get a proper terminal network with full blackbox precautions somewhere in this ship, all he would need is a bathroom and a bunk to be happy. For right now though, he contented himself with the comfortable, familiar feel of Engineering. Perhaps later, he'd schedule some time with the guy tending the screws, as it were. Really find out the quirks of this boat. Yeah, maybe once he was a little more comfortable with the rest of the crew. All in good time.
In 🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1 → 10 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Ash Holloway


Location: Building 2 (Mess Hall) -> Building 1 (Cells)


The mildly unhinged Captain took stock of the people under his care as he shuffled forward in the line for chow. The occasional Newnanite waved to him, smiled every now and again. Some of them looked to him knowingly, with sadness etched into their faces. It was a recurring theme with these people, really. Fear, loss, strength, then picking back up and striding forward. The problem was, every time something like this happened, they got a little bit weaker. A few losses to manpower here and there added up.

In Ash's military opinion, they didn't have enough people within the walls to effectively defend the area. Probably never did. Too many blind spots, too much land to cover. As time progressed and they lost more people, he became slightly more certain that the North American Newnanite was fast becoming an endangered species. Something gamechanging had to occur, and very soon.

When Sally moved up to Ash to embrace him, all he felt was guilt. He did next to nothing, at least nothing that was effective in saving lives. No matter the defense, no matter the training, these people kept getting in. Doing whatever the hell they wanted, surrounded by guns and pissed-off people they picked off a few at a time, and they just kept coming. Contrary to Sally's words, Ash most distinctly did not think that Leann would have been proud. Quite the opposite, Ash was pretty damned sure that Leann would be pissed that nothing else had been done. His voice was almost absent as he responded to the kindly older lady. "Agree to disagree, Ma'am. I don't think that..." Something clicked - his brain allowed him to address the second half of what she mentioned. "A show? What the fu..." He would not sound like Bridgette today. He would not sound like Bridgette today. "...yeah. You know what? Sure. Let them have whatever they need, within reason. I believe Meghna handles that. Please let her know." Ash even caught sight of Meg, standing and talking to the Russian knife guy. She waved, he waved back in a detached manner. A lot was on his mind just then. So long as there was an armed escort in the room with the Russian, just this time, he could interview the strange man later.

Ash smiled. It was forced, but he meant it kindly. He was absolutely sure that he was correct - something had to change or they would eventually be worn down to a point where they could not properly defend themselves. Suddenly, a light seemed to click on inside of his brain. He could make peach mash the next day, the quality wouldn't be affected by a handful of hours' wait. The Captain grabbed two trays, loaded them up, and left the building. He was going back to the Cells.

In route, he called out a member of the Security team for the day, giving a quick order. "When you're done eating, report directly to the Cells to relieve the sentry there. Understand?" Satisfied that the message was taken seriously, he resumed his walk.

A minute or two later, Ash returned to the holding area inside the main building. "Bridgette, you are relieved. Grab some food, get back to your duties. I need some quality time with our guest."

Ashton set his tray down on the newly vacated bench and put his free hand on his pistol. Carefully he slid the second tray through the horizontal slot in the bars, then took a seat on the bench, away from the cell. "I have a little speech planned. You're going to shut up and let me say it, uninterrupted. We're going to have some civilized dinner conversation, Mr. O'Reily. As if we were both rational, thinking people with clear and open motivations. Sound good? By now, you've heard Zoie over the radio, and you know she's alive and conscious if not completely happy."

"I believe that, unless you're here to sabotage us, you're here because you're scared and this was the nearest, strongest community that you are personally aware of. You already know what kind of people we are. I care a great deal about these survivors, as well you know. I suspect you also already know what I am willing to do to keep them okay. Provided you don't, let me fill in: I will personally dirty my hands with the blood of anyone necessary to ensure these people safe. I will burn, I will torture. I will break every oath of decency I have ever given to my Country, my God, and my Family. Hell, even those twelve points in the Boy Scout oath."

"If you aren't here to harm us, then trust has to be established. So let's build on that. Eat up, Ryan. Let's have that talk." Ash picked up his fork and began digging into his meal.

Bridgette Vinters


Location: Building 1 (Cells) -> Building 2 (Mess Hall)


Bridgette listened to Ryan talk about the upcoming, human-established End Of Days planned for Newnan, from which only he could save them. Maybe he was right, and something else horrible was going to happen to her and these people. Or maybe he was just vying for the attention of the higher ups, in an attempt to seem more valuable. Fact was though, bad things were happening, and probably wouldn't stop just because they wanted them to. All the same, she really didn't want to hear the smug fucker speak anymore.

Taking Ash's suggestion (it was an order, but don't remind her), Bridgette decided not to engage verbally. The one concession she did make with herself was that, as Ryan spoke about time ticking away, she held up a fist. With an almost circuslike expression, she raised the index finger of her other hand, and with great ceremony poked the side of that fist as if pushing a button. The result was, were one to look at her face, utter, comical surprise as her middle finger shot upward, apparently violently springloaded. Afterwards she rather unnecessarily checked to make sure her shotgun was loaded, snapping it back together with a slightly hollow, satisfying clack, and resumed her watch. When Ash arrived, Bridgette was more than happy to hoof it.

A minute or so later, Bridgette arrived at the Mess Hall. She clattered her arms and shield down upon a mostly unoccupied table and saw to her nutritional needs. The line was thinning out, but it didn't stop her from cutting through it, hurriedly grabbing a few things, and flopping down with a full plate in front of her weapons.

Bridgette ate noisily. She contemplated firing off a snot rocket, but decided against it. These people had been through enough. While stuffing her face, the violent lady looked around the room, trying to find a suitable sucker assistant or two to help her finally fix that seam on the outer wall. She would make a scene to get that help. Oh yes, she would make a scene.

Black James!


Location: Parking Lot between 10 (Medical Garden) and Gilbert Street - Present location of his Smoker


Whoa momma, what a day. James had a knack for bouncing back from tragedy. Most especially, James could bounce back from tragedy if he had a project into which he could throw himself. Prepping deer hide and slow smoking its meat definitely qualified. the bucket of deer fat and snippets of carcass would hake an excellent addition to either the pig slop, or alternately, the compost heap. He did like a good compost heap. Made the best growing soil known to mankind. But that was really another concern.

Black James gave a wave up to the Sniper's post up top of the Courthouse, making sure that Guy was doing his thing and keeping watchful. Guy hadn't been up there in about a month. Maybe he was rusty. The thought was quickly abandoned; Guy was a hell of a guy (no pun intended). He knew his stuff. He was just glad to have a seasoned rifleman back up where he belonged - looking after their community.

He checked the deer again, adjusted for heat and smoke, added to the water level. This was coming along well. If only there were some greens or potatoes he could throw in with all of this, he could make a hell of a stew. Probably still could later on, as the whole point to smoking something was to preserve it. Time would tell. He still wished that there was a more steady supply of animals like this. There wasn't quite enough in the way of livestock to keep everyone fed with fresh meat as needed. Hunting parties would have to be organized in earnest to make up for this shortage. Not that he wanted to personally be in charge of this; he had enough duties as it stood, but someone... Maybe if he interviewed some of the new recruits, they could work out a plan.

But for now: Venison. By his reckoning, it should be good to go by nightfall.

The Great Bazhooli


Location: Building 2 (Mess Hall)


"Black James?" inquired The Great Bazhooli, his strong but muddled Russian accent emanating from behind his very prominent moustache, "Sounds like pirate. You have pirate here? Vould love to meet him." He smiled a genuine, toothy smile, trying to indicate that he was, in fact, trying for humor. Maybe he was trying too hard. It had been a while since he was around people that didn't want to shoot him. He was no stranger to violence, certainly. As it turns out, his circus training actually made him pretty good at it. He learned that lesson the hard way.

But not being a stranger to violence did not mean that he was a huge fan. All in all, The Great Bazhooli would much rather be on his train, in a fully populated United States, plying his trade to a few hundred or so onlookers who would then shower him with applause and pay his expanses. Even deeper, he wanted to bring others with him, start a family, and pass on the mantle of The Great Bazhooli to the next generation of little Bazhoolis. Moustache optional, of course.

In a grandiose voice, The Great Bazhooli addressed Meghna's second question with some gusto, "Vhere from? Hard to say. I have lived many places. If I had to say one, it vould be place of birth - The awesome city of St. Petersburg! Ve would still vinter there, too, vhen season grew slow. Not in, but just outside, next to the Great Citrus Groves of historic city. St Petersburg mailing address, though. Da, city with long history for my people, for obvious."

"Vhere are you from, kotenok1?"

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